Mac by Delta James
Lying on his back, Mac smiled as he felt Willa snuggled up against him. She was very much like the mustangs she loved—tempestuous, passionate, and untamed. Oh, he liked to think he had a handle on her, but in his heart of hearts, he knew different. He only had the control she trusted him to have, and there were times he felt she still withheld an integral part of herself. He could feel his cock hardening, engorging, knowing she was near. She stirred, instinctively seeking his strength. Inhaling deeply, he could scent her arousal as well as his own aroma from their earlier bout of lovemaking. She was so beautiful. He gently took the hand resting on his chest and nudged her onto her back.
Willa sighed, not really awake but sensual and willing. Most of the time, Willa craved his dominance, even though she had yet to admit she wanted or needed it, but there were times like this when she was as soft as a kitten—although one that could easily develop teeth and claws.
Mac stretched her out on her back, running his hand from where he teased and caressed her areolas and nipples down the planes of her abdomen, slipping between her legs. Parting the petals of her sex, he encouraged the hidden hard little nub to come out to play.
“Mac,” she moaned.
Trailing his fingers to the opening of her core, she was already wet and ready. He penetrated her sheath with two fingers, gently thrusting them in and out. As he felt her ascending from her sleep, he used his thumb in a circular motion to increase her arousal. Bending his head over her breast, he took one of her nipples deep into his mouth as he increased the vigor of his plunging fingers and pressed down on her clit.
Willa’s eyes fluttered open as her body built toward a climax. Rolling on top of her, Willa’s legs parted easily, allowing Mac to settle himself between them. Wrapping his hands around her hips, grasping her ass to steady her, Mac fucked into her, delighting in the way her pussy clamped down on him in orgasm.
Before she could speak, Mac covered her mouth with his own, his tongue sweeping past her teeth before plundering the recesses of her mouth. He planned to fuck that mouth tonight, but for now, he reveled in her response as she writhed beneath him.
“Jesus, Mac,” she cried.
As he thrust, her inner walls shook and quivered, and he gloried in the intensity of the pleasure they shared. Her breath sped up, and the noises she made became whimpers of need and surrender. Her body stiffened in anticipation, and her breath became shallow and thready. His ability to elicit such a primal response from her was difficult and sometimes embarrassing for her. Mac had no need to play with Willa in front of others. Her capitulation to him each time they fucked was emotional for them both. For Willa, it represented a submission she didn’t want to give and made him feel like a conquering barbarian when she yielded and allowed him to command every part of her.
She flushed with desire as she panted, trying to fight off her body’s need to find release and her soul’s need to surrender. He knew she was terrified at the intensity of pleasure she was feeling and embarrassed he could undo her to this extent. As she approached the edge, he increased the ferocity of his stroking, giving one last brutal thrust deep inside her. Willa screamed in ecstasy, her pussy spasming hard all along his length. As her legs trembled, she writhed in his hold, her cunt greedily milking his cock, savoring every bit of pleasure as he held her in his arms.
Her orgasm went on and on as little tremors raced through her body, making her whimper as he moved, drawing little mini-orgasms from her before his cock deposited the last of his seed. He rolled to his back, bringing her with him.
Willa woke in that soft darkness that comes before true dawn—the time between moonset and the beginning of sunrise. Smiling softly, she opened her eyes and felt Mac spooned against her back—the weight of his muscular arm draped around her waist, his hand resting possessively over her mons, and his cock nestled in the crack of her ass. Gently, she removed his hand and disengaged from his embrace. Grabbing her clothes, she crept down the stairs. The last thing she needed was for Mac to wake up. If luck was with her, she’d be back in their bed before he discovered her gone.
The morning sun peeked out over the horizon, the sky losing its inky blackness as pale rays of pink, umber, and burnt orange illuminated and banished the darkness. Willa Reynolds sat atop Gator, her enormous gray warmblood, high on a butte, surveying the landscape and the mustangs below. This was Willa’s favorite kind of morning—soft, seductive, and full of promise, the crushing heat of summer giving way to the cooler mountain temperatures of fall.
Looking through binoculars at the sleeping men who had rounded up the wild horses to transport to slaughterhouses in Canada or Mexico, Willa grinned. Their peaceful morning was about to come to an abrupt end. She wished Mac understood her need to outwit the rustlers who plagued the federal lands and the surrounding unclaimed wilderness. This had become her favorite mode of attack, stalking them, then lying in wait. It was easier to do when Mac was out on assignment for the US Marshal Service.
As the sun crept over the vista, she maneuvered Gator down the side of the hill, making note of where the men had set up camp and how they had used the natural terrain to corral the horses. She counted ten mares and a young stallion, a relatively new herd, with only a few foals running at their mothers’ sides. The stallion was a good-sized palomino, but Gator probably had six inches of height and five hundred pounds of pure muscle on him.
The mares were not the standard sorrel or bay but buckskins, pintos, and roans. If she could drive them to federal land, they might be taken for one of the annual roundups to be auctioned off to people who would either allow them to remain wild on their own private land or train them to be riding horses. As much as she loved seeing mustangs run free on the open range, she was enough of a realist to know, with humans encroaching more and more on their grazing grounds, it was safer for them if they were purchased by caring owners.
Willa nudged Gator with her spur as he reached the bottom of the hill. The big gray responded, picking up speed as the terrain flattened out. This was not the first time he’d carried his mistress on a mission to save the mustangs. Gator increased his gait to a free-floating and smooth-as-glass gallop as she drew her rifle from its scabbard and fired. The shot cracked through the quiet morning like a bullwhip wielded by an expert, startling both herd and rustlers alike. She charged into their makeshift camp and took aim at the prohibited motorized vehicles, shooting out at least one tire. Lassoing the temporary gate, she pulled it down and stampeded the mustangs out of the enclosure, guiding them toward their temporary home.
She always experienced a sense of euphoria when she made one of her raids and bested the men, she considered the personification of evil. Truth be told, she was a bit of an adrenaline junkie—something which was becoming more of an issue between her and Mac. Thinking of Mac’s displeasure made her squirm in the saddle, not from dread but from anticipation. The man had a wicked hand, which he applied liberally to her backside. She disliked the pain that would blossom across her bottom, but his spankings always ignited fierce arousal.
Her destination was a small canyon not located on any of the maps of the area. She would block the entrance to keep the herd from escaping or wandering off, keeping them there for a few days until she deemed it safe to move them to a more permanent location.
With the horses settled in the canyon, Willa headed home, where Gus, her ranch foreman and long-time friend, greeted her.
“The marshal know you’ve been out stealing horses again?” he asked, nodding toward the house.
“I’m not stealing them, Gus. I’m helping them find their way to safety, and, no, I didn’t want to wake him.”
The grizzled cowboy shook his head. “In other words, you snuck out before dawn and are hoping you can slip back into his bed before he even knows you were gone.”
“That’s not it at all,” she said, handing him Gator’s lead rope. “Would you mind taking care of him?” She headed toward the cabin. “And it’s my bed he’s sleeping in.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, missy. At some point, that marshal of yours is going to put the hammer down on you and your nonsense.”
Willa eased into the house, hoping she could slip back into bed with Mac none the wiser. So far, so good, she thought as she removed her clothes and crawled in to lie beside him. Mac rolled up against her back, his arm draping her waist.
“Where the hell have you been?” he growled as his arm tightened like a vice.
Five Years Previously
Willa was returning home from leading an exhausting but enjoyable two-week guided gourmet wilderness tour in the Superstition Mountains when she heard the distinctive ka-thump, ka-thump of a flat tire. Normally, that wasn’t an issue, but the shoulder on this stretch of the highway was narrow, and her stock trailer held six horses. Willa pulled over as far as she could and removed her trailer jack, a device that allowed her to raise the trailer enough to change the tire without having to offload the horses.
She had removed the flat and was rolling it toward the bed of her truck when she heard the crunch of tires on the gravel as a vehicle pulled up behind her rig. Despite being a woman alone on a somewhat desolate part of the highway, Willa was well-prepared to defend herself, her horses, and her property. She nonchalantly walked up to the cab of the truck and removed her rifle from the gun rack.
“Something I can help you with?” she said, turning and bringing the rifle up to bear.
“Whoa! I saw you broke down and stopped to offer some help. I’m going to reach into my back pocket and bring out my ID.”
Willa studied him. He moved with elegance and grace, combined with something strong and predatory. Taller than average with heavily muscled arms, broad shoulders, and a powerful torso and thighs, he wore faded jeans, cowboy boots, and what looked to be a fine cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing powerful forearms.
He opened the ID holder that showed a US Marshal’s badge.
“I’m Ethan McDaniel, Mac, to my friends.”
Willa grinned. She knew exactly who Ethan McDaniel was. Her best friend Mandy had married his friend, John Hampton. Mandy had been trying to fix her up with Mac ever since Willa had to miss the destination wedding. As much as she loved Mandy, the wedding had been scheduled to take place during the height of her busy season.
“I don’t think we’re friends. Fact is, Mandy thinks you and I have done everything to avoid meeting and becoming friends,” she said, lowering the gun.
He laughed. “That must make you Willa Reynolds.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Can I help you with that tire?”
“I can manage. I’m used to doing things for myself.”
“I didn’t ask whether or not you could do it. According to Mandy, you’re part Wonder Woman and part Julia Child…”
It was Willa’s turn to laugh. “Yes, but trussing that duck up the other night with my Lasso of Truth was a big mistake.”
“I would think so. It’s hard for a dead duck to tell you anything.”
“Yes… and rope burns.”
“Let me put the tire on for you.” He held up his hand. “If I don’t, and John finds out, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Yeah, he can go on and on when he’s in the wrong mood.”
“That he can.”
Mac walked over and threw the flat tire in her truck bed, then turned to grab the spare off the front of her trailer. He made short work of changing the tire, and her rig was ready to go.
“Thanks, Mac. I could have done it, but I’m just returning from a trip, so I’m beat.”
“Happy to do it, Willa.”
“We’re about half an hour from my place. Since you changed my tire, can I offer to make you dinner?”
“I thought you were exhausted.”
“I am, but I have to eat, and cooking for two isn’t any more trouble than for one. I need to put the horses up, then have some dinner before I go down to check on them.”
“Tell you what… I’ll follow you and put your horses away while you make dinner. I don’t know about you, but I hate eating alone. We can eat, then you can check your horses before crawling into bed.”
“You know horses?”
“I was raised on a ranch. Some of my happiest and most peaceful times were spent in the saddle.”
“You’re a handy man to have around, Marshal McDaniel.”
Willa quickly did a check of her rig before returning to the cab and pulling onto the highway with Mac falling in behind her.
Dinner had led to meeting for lunch the next day, followed by dinner that evening. Mandy and John had been thrilled at the way the relationship had gained ground fairly quickly.
“So, you seeing Mac tonight?” Mandy asked one day at the office while they were going over the upcoming schedule of tours.
“Yes.” Willa laughed. “Mac is coming over for dinner, then staying the night…”
“Do tell,” she said with a grin. Mandy had a wicked sense of humor and was an unabashed fan of the pairing.
“We’re going to go for a sunrise ride, and I told him it was silly for us to have dinner, then him to come back out to the ranch before the crack of dawn.”
“Have you decided precisely where Mac will be sleeping?”
“That seems to be open for discussion.”
“Why?” asked Mandy. “It’s obvious the two of you are wildly attracted to each other. Mac can barely keep his hands off you. I thought when Baez tried to buy you a drink the other night, Mac was going to deck him. John said he made sure the rest of the marshals knew you were off-limits.”
“See?” Willa shook her head. “That’s part of the problem. He’s lucky I didn’t deck him! We’ve never talked about being exclusive. Hell, Mandy, we haven’t even fucked.”
“Don’t you want to? He’s gorgeous and oh, so sexy.”
“Careful, Mrs. Hampton. If Marshal Hampton hears you lusting after another man, you’ll be sitting gingerly for a few days.”
“I know you don’t approve,” said Mandy.
“It isn’t for me to approve or disapprove. I don’t understand it, but I know John makes you happy in a way I didn’t think was possible. All I have to do is look at the two of you, and I can see how much you love each other. I just don’t think I could be happy in that kind of relationship, and I fear Mac is cut from the same cloth.”
“I know how it sounds, and if you’d asked me before I met John, I’d have told you the same thing, but this is the easiest, best, most profoundly satisfying relationship I’ve ever had. Our roles are well-defined, and if I screw up, I know he isn’t going anywhere. He might bust my butt, but he never calls me names or tries to make me feel guilty. He just corrects the behavior, then forgives me. And the sex is mind-blowing.”
“I knew there had to be something in it for you.” Willa laughed. “I mean, I get what the dominant partner gets out of it—control, all the sex he wants, etc.—but I never understood what a woman would get out of it.”
“Freedom, peace, pretty much all the sex she wants—maybe not in the way she wants, but trust me, I get laid by John more in a week than most married ladies get in a month.”
“Seriously, Willa, I think you need to talk to Mac… maybe find a middle ground.”
“So, you think I’m right… about what he wants in a relationship.”
“I know it. I overheard him and John talking. Mac is serious as a heart attack about you, but he isn’t going to settle for anything less than your submission to his authority.”
“Did you miss the part where I’m not submissive?” asked Willa.
“Nope. He doesn’t want a submissive woman. He can find plenty of those. He wants one woman, you, to submit to one man, him.”
“The day he tries to spank me, I’ll punch him in the nose,” Willa said with finality.
Mandy laughed. “If and when Marshal McDaniel decides he’s had enough and puts you facedown over his knee, before he lets you up, he’ll make sure you understand who’s in charge and that it isn’t you.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“I won’t, but trust me when I tell you from experience, they don’t let up until they have you right where they want you—surrendered and incredibly aroused. Just so you know, they use that against you.”
Willa thought of little else than her conversation with Mandy while she was waiting for Mac to get to her home that evening. There was no question Mandy and John were happy and deliriously in love, but she just couldn’t imagine submitting to anyone… even Mac.
She heard a knock on the door before hearing it open and Mac calling, “Willa?”
“In the kitchen. I’ve got my hands in pasta dough, come on in.”
Mac had been to her home several times. She had remodeled the original homestead to have an open floor plan and two large bedrooms with attached baths, plus an additional half bath. Every feminine part of her body responded to his almost overwhelming masculinity when he wandered in. The man really was arresting.
While they had yet to have sex, Willa had already learned the man knew how to kiss and hold a woman’s body, so his hands could explore, and he left no question of the marshal’s level of arousal or endowment.
“You actually make that stuff?” he said, watching her put the dough through the pasta maker.
“Yes, as I’ve told you before, nothing good comes out of cardboard boxes from the grocery store.”
“Hmm,” he said, making his way around the large center island, “hands all sticky from dough and looking beautiful. My daddy didn’t raise no fools.” Coming around behind her, he wrapped his strong arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck.
“Careful, I’m liable to get your nice Italian weave shirt all messy,” she teased, leaning back against him but continuing to work with the dough.
“I’ll risk it,” he said, waiting for her to pause before turning her around and drawing her close. “Something smells good.”
“It’s the pesto.”
“No, it isn’t,” he said before bringing his mouth down to hers for a leisurely kiss that was both expiatory and passionate.
He kept one hand behind her head while the other left her waist, traveling down her spine to cup her ass and pull her in. The marshal was most definitely interested in moving their relationship to the next level… so was Willa.
Lifting her mouth from his, as far as he would let her, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Willa molded her body to his hard frame, sighing as she did so. Her nipples were pebbled and aching for his touch, and while he might not know it, she was wet and wildly aroused. Mac’s knee pressed against the juncture of her legs, and she found herself astride his hard thigh, the length of him throbbing with the same intensity as the blood pounding through her veins.
Once more, his mouth descended to cover hers. His tongue probed past the recesses of her mouth, inviting her tongue to dance with hers. Need and desire sparked through her system, and she returned the kiss with an equal passion. Willa rubbed up against him, her nipples grazing his chest through their shirts and rubbing the space between her legs along his thigh. He nibbled her bottom lip before withdrawing.
“We need to talk, Willa.”
“No, Mac, we don’t. Kiss me again.”
He chuckled. “Much as I want to, I think we need to discuss where we’re going.”
“Oh, God, can we not have a state of our relationship talk? Just fuck me, Mac, and if you don’t want to do that, then at least kiss me again.”
“You’re standing far too close to me to know it isn’t a question of whether I want you. Hell, if I’d given in to my baser instincts, I’d have had you bent over the tailgate of your pickup the first night we met.”
“Really?” she teased seductively. “That sounds like fun.”
He chuckled, a low, rumbling noise that always turned her insides to hot, molten caramel.
“You’re a naughty minx, Willa Reynolds, but you need to know I don’t spend my time hopping from one woman’s bed to another.” He tried to pull away.
“I never thought you did,” she said, refusing to relinquish her hold. “But we’ve been seeing each other for a couple of weeks, and frankly, Marshal McDaniel, I’m tired of cold showers and my vibrator.”
This time he laughed out loud and pulled her in, his hand descending to swat her backside. She wasn’t sure how he expected her to react, but bumping his groin with her pelvis while drawing his mouth back down to hers probably wasn’t it. She wasn’t expecting when his mouth slanted across hers, he’d swat her again, this time with decidedly more sting. In retaliation, she bit him.
His hand connected a third time, causing her to rise up on her tiptoes from the pain that blossomed all across her backside as well as the impetus of the swat.
“Rule one, don’t bite me unless I’m hammering you so hard, you can’t think of anything else to do.”
“You think you’re going to dictate rules to me?” she snarled.
“I do.” He swatted her again. “We’re going to get the rules straight, and you’re going to understand the consequences of your disobedience.”
“You jackass,” she said, stomping his foot and trying to squirm out of his embrace.
“And you’re a nasty tempered, wild filly, who could use some taming.”
“You think you’re man enough to try?” she taunted.
“Don’t push me, Willa. You won’t like how I respond… or maybe you will.”
“Only if you agree to wash your hands and come sit with me so we can talk.”
Putting both hands on his chest, she took advantage of his loosened hold and shoved with all of her might, making him stumble back a step or two. Before she could make the scathing remark she’d planned, he spun her around, stripped her of her leggings, and bent her over the island, sending flour everywhere.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
The sting he inflicted before was nothing compared to the heat and pain that spread across her backside, but worse was the arousal that spiked through her system. It occurred to her Mac really wasn’t a man to be trifled with. He was ex-special forces and now led a unit of the US Marshal Service’s Fugitive Retrieval Team—the men and women who hunted down the worst of the worst escapees and provided witness protection to federal witnesses.
He brought his hand down several more times, covering the fullest part of her ass as well as her lower cheeks. The harder he spanked, the more the heat, pain, and arousal grew. Willa couldn’t tell which was more disconcerting, the fact he was spanking her or that she was getting so turned on from it.
“Had enough?” he growled.
“Yes,” she said, surprised her answer sounded so meek.
“Good,” he said, pinning her down as he stepped directly behind her. She heard him unbuckle his belt and felt as he unbuttoned the fly to his jeans. “Yes or no, Willa. Decide.”
“Yes,” she barely breathed out.
Mac reached between her legs and found her clit, circling and rubbing before tugging on it. She moaned in pure need. The head of his cock probed her wet, swollen lips, then pushed forward, penetrating her. Her pussy walls softened and expanded to take his length and girth. His hands moved to her hips, holding her in place as he thrust into her, his hips butting against her sore ass, reminding her he’d just spanked her.
Willa had never been fucked like this and by a man who knew precisely what he was doing. She moaned as her sheath pulsed along his length. He drove into her repeatedly, plundering her pussy, stretching her over and over. She could feel his cock expanding and trembling, letting her know his orgasm was close—but hers was closer. Had he not been holding her against the island, Willa’s legs would have buckled. Her breath sped up, and her moans became whimpers as her orgasm approached faster than she could comprehend.
“Come for me, Willa,” he commanded softly.
She fell over the edge as he gave one last hard, deep thrust, driving to the end of her sheath. Crying out in ecstasy, her pussy spasmed as it clamped down hard, and Mac released a torrent of cum into her. Her legs trembled as she writhed beneath him, her cunt greedily milking his cock, savoring every bit of pleasure he could give her. It felt as though her orgasm lasted an eternity as he spent himself deep inside her.
Mac uncoupled from her, drawing her up off the island into his arms. He carried her out to the porch, which wasn’t easily seen from anywhere else on her ranch. Sinking back into one of the rocking chairs, he cradled her in his lap, rocking her slowly, crooning softly.
“Mac?” she said softly.
“It’ll be okay, Willa. Just hush and let me hold you.”
She snuggled against him, and they watched the sun go down. Willa became drowsy and would never remember Mac taking her into the bedroom they would come to share. He made love to her twice more that night, and when the lease on his loft came up for renewal, he moved the remainder of his things to Willa’s, which hadn’t already made their way there.